The Cross Road

When words sound like a lost course Who is will provide the answers to all this questions we ask When the world feels like sinking sand Who will beat fear to hold my hand? When the road of life seems too long to reach the end Who will tell me continue when am just about to stop I am not afraid of what the world brings me It is after all life, and it is meant to be I cannot chose what my tomorrow becomes But I can choose to become my tomorrow And define my existence today But a choice is but a choice It may not define what becomes Or what tomorrow may bring When behind lies the tattered ruins Of an interrupted middle class firmly When our differences of reason cannot elevate When sense make no sense And the silence in my house Is beyond the count of grief I sit and take a moment to meditate For you to read my thoughts in a poem In the deepest end of solitude I find a place to bury pain What my heart cannot heed My mind cannot feed To corrupt my thoughts with greed I am not afraid to be alone Because no one is ever alone But I am afraid to be what I am not Like a wound left to rot A defined sense of solitude At the cross road When thoughts collide When we take a moment to weigh our load When we all pause To Whig history When the sea mimics the land Life still exist within When the sun set to the east And the night is left for beasts to feast Life still exist within When all is lost And when all is said and done When fun has become less fun When all have come and gone When there is nowhere to run Life still exist within When something becomes nothing When nothing becomes something And when ideas deceive the mind In the interregnum It is the journey of life Not the arrival which occupies my mind When we get to the cross road,